Not So Adult Supervision
by ScribeofHeroes
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir get in hot water, when they accidently bury their little brother in cold snow.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, or Estel/Aragorn. Tolkien created them and I shall always be grateful to him for it. I did create Mellolaes. This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

While he worked on an important and boring piece of paperwork, Elrond heard a sound outside his window. It was soft, yet echoed with the dull thud of something heavy landing. The sound should not have troubled him, but somehow it did.

He went to his window and looked out to see if he could identify the source. What he saw was his youngest son's nurse racing through the thick layer of snow and over to a large drift under a tall pine tree. The elleth began to tear the mountain of sparkling, white flakes apart hunk by hunk. In a few moments she uncovered a small, dark head and red face. Elrond tensed. After a few, gasping breaths the five year old began to howl. The elleth yanked her charge out of the deep pile that had somehow swallowed him.

Two, dark-haired elves dropped from the branches above, and began to speak to her and the child at once. Without looking at them, Mellolaes set her charge upon her left hip, wrapped her elf arm around him, put her right arm beneath the child to support him, and strode toward the house, still not glancing at the elves following her while they continued to speak to her back. Elrond turned from the window to likewise stride downstairs to meet them.

Elrond came in sight of the back door just as Mellolaes slammed it open. Estel was still bawling. However, Mellolaes was not comforting the child with soft, silvan words as she usually did. Her jaw was clenched.

The twins, however, were speaking a hundred words per minute behind her. Some of these words were directed toward her and others toward Estel. Before Elrond spoke to any of them, the elleth exploded. She finally turned to them.

"I cannot speak to either of you! I let myself peruse a healers' book for a few minutes while you two take your little brother outside to play and you_ bury_ him! You didn't even notice! I had to go dig him out before he suffocated!"

Both elves cried out at once.

"Mellolaes!"

"Estel!"

"We're sorry!"

"We didn't mean to!"

"It was an accident!"

"We are so sorry!"

"It will never happen again!"

"Is he alright?"

"He's alright isn't he?"

"Estel are you alright?"

Elrond thought it was time to interrupt.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Both twins looked up at their father. Mellolaes turned around to see her employer. Estel stopped screaming and blinked at his ada.

Elrond turned, and approached his youngest child with a gentle face very unlike his stern shout a moment before. He stopped before the elleth and manling. Then he reached out to smooth away a wet, dark lock of hair back from grey, blinking eyes. Water droplets clung to their lashes like dew. Elrond gazed back into the grey eyes within them.

"Are you alright, ion nin?"

Estel swallowed and nodded. Elrond felt through his finger tips that it was so, for now at least, until the cold and wet weakened the small, mortal body to infection. He looked up to meet the elleth's eyes.

"Get him out of those wet clothes and into a warm bath, quickly."

Mellolaes nodded, turned, and swept up the stairs toward Estel's rooms, which included a private bathroom. She was now speaking softly to Estel in her lilting home tongue. The twins and their father watched from below.

Estel peered back at them over his nurse's shoulder. He raised a small hand and waved down at them, but seemingly more in the direction of his brothers. They smiled back in relief.

After the elleth turned down a hall and disappeared with her charge around a bend, Elrond turned a glare upon his eldest sons. Both melted back into explanation and apologies. Elrond suffered from the same tight jaw as Mellolaes had.

"Ada let us explain!"

"We meant to take care of Estel!"

"We were making a snow soldier with him!"

"And I went off to find a branch for a sword!"

"I stayed with the snow soldier and Estel!"

"I looked back and saw Elrohir's unguarded back turned toward me."

"And I felt something hit me on it!"

"I'd thrown a snowball at him."

"And I turned around and ran straight at him!"

"And I turned and ran for the tree."

"And he climbed up into it!"

"I did."

"And I went after him!"

"And I climbed higher."

"And when I got close, Dan leapt down at me!"

"I'm sorry."

"He fell into me and we went rolling down the tree!"

"We knocked several branches along the way."

"The snow must have caused an avalanche effect!"

"We'd completely lost track of Estel."

"We stopped falling after landing on a few interlaced branches!"

"We were still struggling with each other when we heard someone running through the snow."

"But we didn't stop until we heard Estel scream."

"Screaming . . . He was screaming."

"Screaming."

"We stopped as soon as we heard him!"

"We didn't mean to hurt him ada!"

"We had no idea he'd followed us to the foot of the tree!"

"Or that the snow that fell from the branches had buried him!"

"We're sorry Ada."

"So, so sorry . . ."

Elrond held up a silencing hand. Both twins snapped their mouths shut, and turned their gazes to the floor. Elrond's tone was quiet, and deadly as the cold itself.

"From hence forth, neither of you will be left alone with Estel, unless there is also an adult present to supervise all of you."

The millennia-old elves winced. Elrond ignored them as he turned and walked up the stairs to check on his other son.

. . .

Mellolaes had stripped the wet clothes from her charge, and was rubbing him all over with a dry towel in front of the fireplace while other elves dumped buckets of hot and lukewarm water into his tub. As she rubbed over his head again he spoke.

"I don't like snow Melly!"

The elleth grinned gently as she replied. "You think snow is fun to play in Estel, and you are right."

"But snow is mean! I never knew it was mean."

"Snow is just like cold, light sand Estel, or light, fluffy water. Water and sand are fun."

"Snow isn't like water! I can't swim through it like water. Its heavy, and dark inside, and I couldn't breathe!"

"Sometimes even fun things are dangerous Estel. You have to be careful. You need to stay away from places where fun things can hurt you."

"What places?"

"Deep water you can't stand up in, deep sand you can sink into, places beneath a whole lot of snow that can fall on top of you, but in small amounts, water, sand, and snow are still fun, Estel."

"I guess so."

Mellolaes paused a moment, and then said. "I have decided something, Estel."

"What Melly?" The child asked while looking up into his nurse's serious face.

"I have decided that the more male elves you allow to play together, the less intelligent they become."

Estel chuckled.

**Reviews are much appreciated and often responded to. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**After all these months, I decided to continue this story. Do not worry, I also plan on continuing "How Estel Got A Nurse." I just need a quick break from it.**

**I neither own nor created Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, Middle Earth, The Lonely Mountain, Rivendell, of Thranduil. I did create Mellolaes. **

**This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

The twins were still not in favor with their father the next day. The Elven lord seemed quite serious about their punishment. The twins did not chaff or complain of this though.

They hoped if they remained quiet, humble, and on their best behavior, the incident would be seen as a once occurring incident. Surely they could gain their father's confidence with their littlest family member once more. To that end, they volunteered to stay inside and play with the manling. Elrond gave them a cold gaze he would not have before their failure. They met it with lowered heads and chastised countenances. Elrond lifted one eyebrow before he replied.

"I will ask Mellolaes what Estel's schedule is today."

Mellolaes had been taking Estel outside herself lately. She felt it necessary to replace her charge's new fear of the outdoors and snow with a respectful, but joyful wonder. She accomplished this by carrying him about on her hip through the snow-dusted trees, but not deep drifts.

The two took seed and nuts with them. They fed these to birds, squirrels, and rabbits. The manling's fascination with these creatures eating at the elleth's feet, caused him to ask to be put down for a closer look. When the a rabbit drew near enough for the child to touch its white fur, he grinned up at his nurse in pride. Mellolaes grinned back down with the same.

The nurse and child also had a few games of "catch the snowflake on your tongue" and "making snow-art" both by forming the snow like clay and falling into it to leave your imprint. Soon, Estel was almost his old self in the snow. However, he still skirted places where masses of it upon branches and buildings hung over the ground. From the perspectives of his caregivers, this was probably for the best.

Elrohir and Elladan had not been allowed to accompany the elleth and manling on any of these outings. They hoped to still be trusted with sharing indoor activities with their little brother again, though. Thankfully for them, Mellolaes had planned an art-activity for her charge that afternoon.

She had amassed parchments as wide as the manling himself and even longer than he was tall. There were also jars of paint the manling could stick his whole hand into. Such activities were always best done just before bath time.

Estel had been having his bath before rather than after dinner of late, so his hair could dry well before he went to sleep. Elrond knew very well wet-heads were not good for manlings to go to bed with during the cold months. The half-elf made sure the rest of the household knew it too.

The manling's warrior brothers preferred playing with the manlings toy soldiers, knights, horses, trolls, golblins, orcs, and mamucks. They slumped a little at the offer of painting with him instead, but dared not complain. Mellolaes herself was polite, but cool as they joined her and Estel in the bathroom. There water and soap to clean the mess left afterwards were readily available. Elrohir glanced about at the pots and parchments with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Where are the brushes?"

Estel's head turned to gaze wide-eyed at his brother.

"What brushes?"

The elf met the puzzled gaze of the manling with his own.

"The brushes to paint with, Estel."

Mellolaes entered with the last armload of jars each labeled with a smear of the paint color inside. A grin graced the elleth's face.

"We don't need any."

She sat down, opened the jar lid of green, and stuck her small hand in to scoop out a palm full onto a wooden pallet as large around as a platter. Then she used her thumb to make shapes like oval leaves on the parchment. Estel eagerly stuck the tip of his forefinger into a blob of brown already on the pallet and connected the leaves with diagonal lines. The five year old's tongue stuck out slightly in concentration. The twins smiled at each other. This might prove fun after all.

So it did. The elves and manling used palms, fingertips, and even their fingernails to make rainbows, rain clouds, waterfalls, grassy knolls, horses, rabbits, flowers, leaves, trees, elves, elleth, and a dark haired manling. Even the two most famous orc-slayers of the third age found themselves having fun with this art project. As often happens while one paints and mixes colors, they ran out of white. Mellolaes hung another parchment now looking like a long, brightly colored banner up to dry on the strand of twine hung across the room.

"I did not prepare well enough for all four of us to be painting together. There is probably another jar of white in my own closet."

"Why not fetch it then?"

Mellolaes turned a look upon Elrohir. The elf blushed, but his brother chuckled. The elder Elrondion met the elleth's gaze unashamed.

"Surely you trust us with our own brother long enough to go fetch a jar of paint."

The nurse crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh, can I now?"

Both twins opened their mouths to protest, but the manling beat them to it.

"Please, Melly! I want to finish Glordel's horse!"

The elleth's gaze turned towards the manling and stuck. He was giving her the pleading stare of big eyes and slightly pouty bottom lip. That always melted her. The elleth's shoulders slumped. She then glanced back at the identical faces above the manling's head trying to look mature and responsible, with finger paint on their faces and hands. That did it.

The Silvan's shoulders shook and she covered her mouth. Tears of humor started pouring out of her eyes. She could not stop laughing.

The twin elves looked a little startled, but the manling grinned. Estel knew when he had won. His nurse proved him right by waving her arms through the air in defeat.

"All right, all right! I will attempt to be back before you three find a way to drown yourselves in what is left to scrape out of the bottoms of these jars."

The elleth managed to sweep out of the room and shut the door before either elf could think of a clever counter remark. Both scowled at the paneled wood blocking their view of their cheeky new servant. The manling just added a bit more golden hair to the elf rider sitting on the partially completed white stallion of his masterpiece.

. . .

Elrond strode down the hall. He needed a drink after reading a letter from the personal scribe of the King Under The Mountain. The inflation in prices of all goods from that region was insulting.

So busy was the Elven Lord in fuming, he almost did not notice who passed him going the other direction. However, the figure was too distinct from any other in his household to miss it. He spun around to follow the fleeting form and spoke to its back.

"Merilvidhian?'

The Silvan elleth spun about to face her employer.

"Yes, Lord Elrond?"

"Where is Estel?"

"His brothers are watching him while I get a jar of paint."

At the look the elf gave her, the servant crossed her arms.

"Now really, there is no snow in Estel's bathroom. They did manage to keep him safe, even outside, for an hour. I will just be gone a few minutes."

"There is also the principle of their punishment not being followed. I said they would not be left with him unsupervised."

"They have to earn back trust sometime."

The elf's glare darkened. The elleth did not flinch under it, lifting her chin instead.

"The sooner I get the paint, the sooner I get back."

The Elven Lord let out the breath he had been holding.

"Next time send one of them for the jar."

The elleth rolled her eyes, turned, and strolled onward. Elrond turned back to his own quest rolling his own eyes. How did Thranduil keep order and his own temper with a household half-filled with servants like that and arrogant price-hiking dwarves for neighbors?

. . .

Elrohir squinted at his work, contemplating how to form feathers on his giant eagle with only his fingers. As usual when he thought deeply on a matter, he cupped his chin in his hand. A light of an idea lit his eyes. He reached out to implement it, and heard his twin chuckle.

"Well, brother, the elleth may beat you yet for best finger-painted art, but she cannot overcome you in the contest of most covered in paint."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow. He reached up touched the mostly clean back of his hand to his chin and cheek. He drew it away to find it brown smeared over it. He then reached down to his pallet.

"Oh, I don't know brother . . ." He flicked red into the other elf's grinning face. Elrohir calmly lowered his arm and went on, a smile spreading over his own face. "You may take that prize."

Elladan grabbed his paint pallet and smashed it into his brother's chest. Elrohir's eyes blazed. Red drops like blood were splattered over his twin's smug grin.

"I think not, brother, not with that finishing touch."

Neither elf realized their youngest brother had stopped working on his painting to watch them. The manling glanced at a mostly full jar of a bright shade of orange not commonly found in nature. He stuck his hand in to grab a handful.

. . .

Mellolaes flung open the right door of her wardrobe and pulled out a jar. She then turned to go, half closing the panel behind her, and paused. Looking back, the elleth saw a jar of brown paint. They were almost out of that too. Another nearby jar of blue also caught her attention. With all the skies they had made in their pictures, they would soon be out of that as well. She stood in indecision for a moment.

Then she shrugged and reached back up. Why not? Surely a few more moments away could not hurt.

. . .

Elrohir reached for a dish of many colored water he had been rinsing his hands in. Elladan's hand shot out to grab his wrist before he caught hold of the bowl. Elrohir moved out out the way. His brother's grasping hand landed on the dish's side, causing it to overturn and splash over the elder twin anyway.

Elrohir began to laugh. As his twin turned to glare at him, the younger elf felt a slap of cold goo hit his cheek. The sound of mirth died on his lips. He turned to see Estel standing on his knees with a smirk.

. . .

Mellolaes strode into Estel's room with an armful of paint jars cradled to her chest. She had taken a little longer than she had expected to, but this supply would keep her from having to leave again. Besides she could feel her charge's happiness from here.

She froze. In fact, he felt excited too excited. As the sounds coming from through the closed bathroom door registered the elleth leapt forward and flung it open. Elrohir was just smashing _her palette_ into Elladan's hair!

Every rinsing dish was overturned. From the soaked look of all three not a drop of their contents had been wasted. Every jar that had been nearly full when she left was nearly empty now, and not a bit of it seemed to have been wasted either.

At the chocked screech she gave all turned towards her. Eyes widened. Here eyes swept up and down, better taking in the orange and brown faced Elrohir, yellow and pink Ellandan and . . .

"Look Melly! I won!"

At her charge's exclamation an exasperated chuckle escaped the elleth.

"Won what, Estel?"

The manling stood to his green feet, blue knees now showing, lifted his yellow face, which flipped back his orange splattered hair, and proclaimed . . .

"I'm the most covered in paint!"

**If you liked something, please tell me so I can do more of it. If you didn't like something, you can tell me that too. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I do neither own nor created Estel/Aragorn, Lord Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, Imladris/Rivendell, Harad or Middle Earth. I did create Mellolaes and the diplomat Haxamanis. The name of the latter is supposed to be a combination of an old Persian words "Hax****ā****" meaning "friend" and "Manah" meaning "Mind, thinking power." This name seemed appropriate for the character.**

**This story is meant for entertainment purposes only so please read and be entertained. :)**

Mellolaes' hair flared out as she spun. The sunlight glinted off its red and golden threads. Her feet danced by a brook. The sprouts growing into ground cover she stepped upon seemed to stand taller once she'd lifted her feet from them.

Estel spun with more hesitation on wavering, mortal legs. His balance was less steady, but a grin graced his face. His grey eyes gleamed. His nurse was careful to walk where he had moments before so the plants were not scarred by his passing. The manling looked up as the elleth's voice rose above him.

"The Singer has sung the spring into being,

Sing with the Singer who is singing the spring!

Come up you flowers, come up oh you trees!

Reach up to the sky and stretch out your leaves

Green now garbs the soil, soon will hum all the bees.

When the sun melts the ice, swift flow all the streams!

Each branch buds, moss grows on the trunks facing north!

Let beasts wake from their sleep and all creatures come forth

When every plant sprouts its tender, spring leaves

When the branches of bushes form green berries

Each note echoes back to the Singer sweet,

Gather all nature to his great Spring feast!

Estel's clear, child's voice joined hers for the last line. Mellolaes stopped spinning. As Estel did the same, he fell onto his bottom. Both dancers laughed.

Then a trumpet blast sounded from the south. The note echoed off the ring of rocks encircling the valley and dancers. The child's chin lifted. His head snapped around trying to follow its bouncing.

"Who is coming into the valley, Melly?"

Mellolaes stared in that direction herself. "I know not, mellon nin." The elleth then turned back to her charge and held out her hand. "Come, let us go back down to the houses. I believe I can find us the makings of a meal there."

"Oh yes, yes, yes!"

The child hopped up and began striding forward. Mellolaes took the boy's hand just before the earth beneath them truly dropped. Estel clutched her fingers. His tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth as he began his descent. He had good balance for a human his age, but the hillside was cluttered with stones.

As they strolled, another noise wafted over the valley. Boy and elleth froze. The roar, no, the shriek, broke the calm and sweetness of the day. The hairs covering Mellolaes' skin rose. Her stomach twisted within her.

The elleth's eyes stared toward the south gate. The scream still reverberated off the mountains surrounding her and her charge. Estel grimaced. Then he looked up at his nurse. "What was that, Melly?"

The elleth gripped the manling's hand. Her voice wavered. "I am not sure, Estel." The nurse had a suspicion, but it seemed too bizarre to speak especially to her charge. Instead, she tightened her hold on his hand, and they continued their descent together.

. . .

The eyes should have been gold from all he had read. To a mortal's eyes these would seem orange. With his elven sight, Elrond could observe the red blood vessels winding through the colored irises were more swollen and prominent than was natural.

A heavily accented voice spoke at the half-elf's side, near the earth. "Beautiful are they not? Worthy presents for the twin sons of Elrond, Lord of The Hidden Valley, yes?" Silence stretched on while the man waited for his host to agree.

Elrond continued to stare. Black fur, muscles bulging through their pelts, fangs obvious as they snarled at him. Growls reverberated out of their chests and throats. The eyes seemed to glow as they stared through the bars keeping them from him. Elrond did not look away as he answered the creatures' keeper. "They are impressive."

The man's face rose from where it had been pressed it into the grass. His mouth broke into a grin. His head bobbed in an a repeating nod. "My master knew he must send a present of extreme rarity, value, and exoticness to receive forgiveness for not appearing himself this year."

Elrond finally turned his gaze away from the great cats. He stared at the man. This servant, or perhaps slave, of his regular visitor had never entered their valley before.

The diplomats from one of Harad's wealthier and more open-minded countries had always traveled with a small entourage. Haxamanis, the latest such dimplomat had never arrived with more than twelve servants with him. Usually, those of the southern scholar's position and culture traveled with at least twenty when outside their country.

The Lord of Imladris knew this because the diplomats before the last had arrived with such numbers of servants. The books they, and later Haxamanis, brought him from their lands mentioned such large caravans and larger. Finally, the servants the scholar did bring would attempt to excuse their master's eccentricities while finding a dozen other reasons he was deserving of honor and praise.

Elrond had been hosting Haxamis a few months every ten years for the last fifty years. When first they had met, the Haradrim had been a young man traveling with his country's earlier diplomat as the older man's protege. The youth had been intrigued by everything to the point of staring. He had laid out his thin body like a plank upon the ground before anyone in Elrond's house he believed offended by his stares or questions. He did this even while asking his questions anyway.

His mentor had only chuckled and bowed low at the waist when greeting or thanking anyone. The student learned from his master. He had also watched all and listened with a tense, energetic stillness that made the air around him hum. Over the years, especially when he replaced his teacher, Haxamanis had grown as relaxed and quiet in their household as his old master had been. His demeanor became like that of an old dog in familiar haunts instead of an exited puppy.

Elrond recalled sitting down with him chairs facing each other. They had drunk teas made from leaves grown in Imladris' gardens or the spices the Southerner brought with him. After going through the trade agreements between Imladris and the man's homeland, they conversed about medicine, attire, and weather patterns. They exchanged books on such matters that took a decade for busy and thoughtful people like themselves to read.

They had also been careful to avoid certain topics. Their differing views on the history of all things and nature of a certain party known to them both had been first hinted at between them, then discussed as carefully as two fighters circling before attacking, and finally abandoned and avoided all together. However, these topics had come up again briefly during their last visit after two decades of the agreed upon silence.

Elrond had long taken note of how quickly humans aged. During the man's last visit, he had thought his friend had more white hairs and skin creases than he ought to. The mortal's smiles had not reached his eyes. His feet had seemed reluctant to leave. A promise to return was not given as it had been every visit before.

_You may not see me again, my pleasant host. I am an old man, and my ruler and master . . . his mind turns to new things and new alliances. He is rather young. I am afraid he has not much respect for my rumblings of distant places in the north ruled by creatures as mysterious as they are kind._

Yet, here was a party from that land. Their new leader was apologizing for Haxamanis' absence. And they had brought a gift, a gift his friend would have known far better than to send.

Elrond turned to address this "servant" of his old acquaintance. "While I appreciate the trouble, expense, and generosity shown through Haxamanis' gift to my sons, I fear he has forgotten my people's customs."

"There can be no mistake! He knows and has made sure all in our land knows of your sons' and their love for hunting. That they are the greatest hunters in all the northern kingdoms and search ever for the most fierce and challenging prey. Even here in the north they can find no more challenging prey than these."

Elrond glanced back to the "gifts." Indeed, they were not true "prey" at all, just as a dragon could not be called "prey" even by his slayer. Elrond waved a hand before the beasts. One growled. The other charged. Its head nearly slamming into a wall of its cage. Elrond dropped his hand. "They should not react so to an elf's presence."

"They have been conditioned to be fierce even among members of your race. They would not make a satisfying challenge if they fawned before you as most beasts, no?"

"No. How were they so conditioned?"

"Oh, please forgive an obedient servant of my master and my master's master, exalted Lord Elrond of The Hidden Valley, but some secrets of our people must be kept."

"Indeed. I fear, however, that your master was mistaken. My sons do hunt orcs. However, they do so because one of our kin was once captured and tormented by them." Elrond paused and forced his face to remain expressionless and his voice smooth. "Their hunting is fueled by a blood-feud with orc-kind, not sport."

The mortal's eyes grew wide. He rocked back revealing his knees still pressed into the ground. Then he bowed back over and pressed his forehead again into the dirt. "My master is now quite an old man. Forgive him for forgetting your peoples' ways and family's sorrows, wise and merciful Lord Elrond of the most lovely of Northern Kingdoms."

"My old friend is forgiven, but I would like you and your people to stay with this . . . gift, and keep an eye upon them, all of you. Our own offerings of hospitality will be brought here to you, and our guards will stay with you also."

"Ah," the man lifted his face enough for Elrond to note his broad grin, "and such very good servants the master of the Hidden Valley has. All those who escorted us are so silent and empty-faced."

Elrond glanced toward Glorfindel. The company he had sent to intercept the caravan when a ranger had brought them word of the group's proximity had indeed remained silent and empty faced since he first approached. If Haxamanis had been with them, his soldiers might have been less silent. Indeed, there likely would have been bantering between them and the diplomat's usual servants. Only a few of the latter were here now. They also had remained silent and empty faced. Their heads were bowed and eyes staring at the green grass between their toes.

In the country they hailed from, "silent" and "empty-faced" were a great compliments for a servant. To show no emotion, no wince, no feelings toward your surroundings, only watchfulness for your master's wishes was the height of accomplishment for one of their station.

However, Glorfindel's lack of expression told Elrond much. His Captain's thoughts were his own. The Lord of Imladris nodded toward the golden-haired elf. "I am certain then, they will continue to serve me with all obedience and diligence. Though, I must speak to their captain."

Glorfindel's eyebrows rose. The act was the most expression he'd shown for days. He dismounted and followed his lord, to do otherwise would make Elrond appear weak in the eyes of their guests. When the two elves had walked so far they'd become brightly-colored dots to the mortals they had parted from, Elrond spoke. He did not use Sindar, which he had taught Haxamanis a few words of, but Quenya.

"I am sorry."

"No need, I was about to apologize for bringing them inside."

"You brought them through the gate, because of the wagon?"

"Yes, though I thought hard about slaying the monsters outside instead."

"Then we might have had to kill the men as well."

"Their country is no longer interested in being even a passing acquaintance of ours. They wish to be false friends and true enemies. They have chosen sides. Perhaps they chose many years ago."

Elrond shook his head. "All true, I fear. However, if we send these visitors away while their gifts still live, with the assurance the twins will slay the beasts with their own swords, those they give word to may believe us fooled."

Glorfindel shook his head. "The one truly ruling them now will not be so fooled. Whatever plan he truly has for those beasts . . ."

Elrond nodded. "A measure of care must indeed be taken. The _House_ must be made secure."

Glorfindel looked to Elrond and Elrond met his gaze and held it. The buildings of Rivendell were anything, but secure. They were built in what was supposed to be a Hidden Valley, invisible to foes. What Elrond spoke of was not a building at all, nor a house of his own, but that of his brother. The code had long ago been decided and Glorfindel understood. He nodded.

"Yes, my Lord Elrond."

. . .

Mellolaes was reading a book to a bored Estel. She had brought him inside less than an hour ago. Something new, strange, and frightening had entered Imladris' Song. Even as she led him back to the house Lindir had rushed out calling for them. He had then instructed them to hold up in Estel's room until his Lord Elrond himself gave them further instructions. They had taken their meal there and finished it long ago. Now they waited.

The door flew open. The Half-elf stepped in. Estel grinned, hopped off of Mellolaes' lap, and rushed over to him. "Ada!"

The elf knelt and captured Estel's shoulders in his hands. Then he gave the child and Mellolaes a smile the latter could not feel in the half-elf's note. Her eyes narrowed at her employer. The half elf did not look back at her. Instead he spoke to his heart-son. "Estel, Erestor is getting a few things ready. Then you and Mellolaes are going to a special, secret place. You must not leave there till I come for you. Understand?"

Estel' eyes widened. "A secret place?"

Elrond nodded. He kept the smile firmly in place and even kept lights dancing in his eyes. "A place so secret, even most in this household know it not. Would you like to go?"

A spark appeared in Estel's gaze as he nodded. "Yes. Can Mellolaes and I go soon?"

Elrond nodded, but stood and gestured toward the door he had just entered through. "Go and ask Erestor." Estel zipped out and into the open arms of Erestor who was waiting in the doorway. The elf carried him down the hall asking what the child wanted to take to eat.

Mellolaes waited until the child's voice had grown faint. Then, she turned a near frown upon her employer. She spoke in a soft, cold voice her charge had never heard. "What is going on?"

Elrond had turned away from her to watch his son exit. He spoke without turning. "A possible threat, in the guise of a gift from an old friend, has entered the valley." He then looked over his shoulder at her. "Estel must know nothing of it, yet be kept safe."

Mellolaes stared at the elf for less than a moment before nodding and exiting after her charge. Lord Elrond watched her go. Within an hour, both elleth and manling were riding a horse together after a single warrior on a bigger, but not eye-catching steed.

. . .

The southerners all bowed with their knees, palms, and foreheads pressed to the earth as Lord Elrond arrived with many of his own servants holding dishes of food, drinks, buckets of water for washing, small soaps, towels, pillows, blankets, ect. Elrond dined with them, sitting cross-legged as they did. He and the head-servant, however, sat upon cushions while the others sat upon the grass. Had Haxmanis been there, the servants would have been seated on cushions too. The Lord of Imladris said nothing. For all his playing the eager servant, Elrond felt uneasy about this new leader of his visitors. The host was uncertain how far he could push without repercussions.

He began to question the head-servant on his friend's health and condition. The answers seemed to come too readily to the man's lips. When he did pause and think about an answer, often giving a shrug and overdone facial expression followed, Elrond had not felt the strain of thinking in his note in the song.

Elrond was careful to keep his expressions neutral as he sipped his tea and offered the man more salad and scones. After the man ate, his well-dressed fellow servants partook of each dish as well.

This was as it had always been when those from the south visited. Haxmanis ate first, then his chief servant, and on down through the ranks.

One servant of the lowest position had grabbed a cream-puff while mid-level servants were still reaching for them last year. Her master and fellow servants had "not noticed." Elrond had smiled.

That same servant now let the dishes sit before her and waited until the head-servant, middle level servants and some of the lower had eaten had emptied their plates once and drunk a fourth cup of tea before eating anything. Elrond noted that. Mostly though, he kept his gaze upon the head servant. He memorized the man's gestures, expressions, and words. Finally, Elrond's servants packed up the empty dishes and soiled towels. Then he and they left.

The soldiers remained, no one replaced them. Elrond thought they knew this group and their "gifts" best. Therefore, he wanted the experienced to stay. They were already refreshed by partaking of the food he had brought and being within their own Valley again. So their lord was not worried.

Only Glorfindel was no longer there. Elrond hoped his presence in the houses might dissuade the bold from their schemes. Very bold schemers may be misled by his presence as well. After all, if Imladris' greatest warrior was guarding the houses, the Valley's greatest treasure must be within one. Instead, Mellolaes and one less-known warrior had taken Estel to a place few even in his Valley knew of. So, Elrond parted from his guests with concern, but also some comfort.

The night came and went. At dawn, Elrond returned with more servants, bearing more refreshments and asked if his guests had passed a fair night. He received reassurances they had. Elves and mortals again shared a meal. Then the hosts and elves not on guard departed. Noon came.

Noon was a lazy time for elves. Nature itself seemed lazy at noon, unless the day was cold. This one was warm.

Even the gifts lay down and seemed to sleep in the shadow and sunlight pattern made by the bars of their cage. They had been fed in the night with stuff the elves hated the sight and smell of. The travelers had said their kind usually hunted at night in the wild, so it was good for them to be fed at night. Now though, the threats almost seemed tame.

A mid-level servant pulled out a flute. Even he did not speak. Only the head-servant spoke, but this mid-level servant did play. He had played almost every day since their elven escort had encountered them. The music was haunting and beautiful even to the elves. It was exotic too.

A thick blanket of drowsiness seemed to smother the whole area. As the tune droned on the elves' eyes half-closed. They stared like statues as they had before, but the air around them hummed less with the strain of vigilance.

Then one note seemed to break through the soothing tune. The servant had not played that note the whole journey there. As it reached its highest pitch, the latch on the gifts' cage snapped open. Even the sound of that did not make the half-closed eyes of the elves to snap wide open. The soldiers did not turn toward what they were meant to guard.

The great cats, however, raised their heads and perked their ears. Golden-red eyes stared at the door as it swung open. They rose to their enormous paws. As silently as elves could, they slipped out of their cage, by the guards, and into the high grass. One watching servant, an older woman with grey hair who had always come with Haxamanis before watched with tears winding through the crevices of her dark face.

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